Besides, the injury was wrong. A vampire bite was sharp but neat, the corner fangs large on top, less pronounced on the bottom. The wounds on the girl were obscured, more suggestive of gnawing than a clean bite.
Werewolf? No. A beast wouldn't stop with the neck. They went for the viscera.
A ghoul? There again, it would make more mess. Lots more. It would eat the flesh.
A demon? There were a lot of subspecies, each with its own dining habits, each more appalling than the last.
Alessandro shuddered, his flesh crawling under the wool and leather layers of his clothes. There was no power on earth, above or below, that could induce him to tolerate a demon in his town. It could lay waste to the campus. To Fairview. He'd seen them in action before. The stuff of nightmares, even for a vampire.
Hunt it. Kill it.
Alessandro could feel his heart beating again, a sure sign of stress. The smell in the room was cloying. He cleared his throat.
Stop and think with something besides your fangs.
Time was running out. He could hear the activity outside. Soon the police would be in the house, fouling everything with noise and human odors. He crouched, looking closely for any more clues. There it was again, that scent. He rocked back onto his heels, his head starting to ache with the effort to place that smell. It was vampire with a chaser of… what?
Who is it? Who dares to hunt in my domain?
The girl on the floor looked so vulnerable, so lonely under the dirty glare of light. She had not died well. From the position of the body, the girl seemed to have been thrown down. One hand reached up, as if she had tried to protect her face from the fall.
Vampires weren't gentle, but this level of violence was atypical. She might have even died before she was drained. Humans broke so easily.
Alessandro tilted his head, catching sight of something glinting in the girl's upflung hand. He dared not touch her. Vampires left fingerprints just like humans. He pulled out a pen and poked at her fingers, loosening the object in her grasp. Something hit the wooden floor with a clink. Alessandro pinned the object with the tip of the pen, scooting it along the floorboard until he could see what it was.
Cold dread congealed in his gut. The round, flat metal object was familiar. He had one just like it, a gift from his sire centuries ago.
The size of a quarter, the copper disk was old, rubbed thin, the edges slightly ragged. The design was worn away, but Alessandro could still make out the figure of Orpheus, the hero from Greek myth. In one hand he held a lyre; his other rested on the head of a lion.
In legend Orpheus sang so sweetly the wild beasts wept. His song was so powerful that he could walk through the Underworld in safety, for he charmed even the god of the dead.
Vampires left the Orpheus token as a blessing, a gift to ensure that the soul of their prey would travel in peace and safety. It was a ritual of respect that Alessandro hadn't seen practiced for hundreds of years. Tokens were rare. The one in the girl's hand dated from the Middle Ages.
I am searching for someone very old.
Apprehension prickled Alessandro's skin. Apprehension, and a primal need to answer the challenge. He picked up the token and slipped it into his pocket along with his pen.
Alessandro got up and looked out the small, dirty window. The night outside rustled and glittered, a breeze sending the dry leaves and branches flickering across the campus lights. Close up was the university, and a little farther away the community college that shared its grounds. He could see the clock tower and neon signs of the Student Union Building. Through it all streamed the endless glowing pinpoints that signified thousands of human lives.
Why would an old one come to my town and challenge me?
A new noise scattered his thoughts. Heavy men with heavy boots clumped up the stairs. The police had arrived. The look-away spell had been broken.
I'm a vampire standing next to an exsanguinated body. This cannot end well.
Alessandro switched off the room light and closed the door. That would buy him a little time, nothing more. He returned to the window and pulled on the old double-hung frame. It was painted shut. By the sound of the footfalls, Alessandro could tell the first of the policemen had reached the second floor.
A wave of frustration made him reckless. He shoved up the sash with a shuddering crash of splintering wood and paint. A gust of damp, cold air swirled into the room, sweet and clean after the stink of old death.
Predictably, the noise was followed by a yell from one of the cops. The window's opening was narrow, but Alessandro dived through, fragments of broken frame clawing at his clothes and hair.
The night air caught his momentum, floating him through the darkness. Speed made him a fleeting shadow against the bright sea of campus lights, a momentary tingle down the necks of the bystanders. The flight was short, but the thrill drove out the anxiety feasting on his soul.
Landing in the murky blackness of a neighboring lane, Alessandro crouched, listening. Nothing. He was safe. A slow smile tugged at the corners of his lips.
There was a hunt awaiting. A war for territory. A worthy, challenging, dangerous opponent, someone clearly spoiling for a fight.
I'll find you, Old One. The world of cell phones, credit checks, and taxation faded into insignificance. Alessandro was a creature of the rustling night, ready to protect what was his.
Ready for the chase.
He really hoped those emergency vehicles hadn't blocked in his car.
Chapter 5
Macmillan left Holly where she sat on the curb, taking away the signed burn order on the house. Holly shifted, her rump numb from the cold concrete. The happy drugs still had her in a haze, sapping the urge to do anything but sit and drool.
On a good day, if someone had asked her what she wanted in life, she would have said business success, a college degree, and a cute boyfriend with husband potential. At the moment she would have settled for a cushion and a warmer coat.
A few minutes later another flurry of police cruisers arrived, lights flashing. Had something new happened?
"Ms. Carver." One of the paramedics, a thin, balding man, was walking toward her. "Mr. Elliot is asking for you."
"Dr. Elliot," she said automatically. "Ben's a professor." His specialty was in fifth-world macroeconomics, which sounded to Holly like a soy-based breakfast cereal or a grunge band with intellectual pretensions. Nevertheless, Ben was apparently brilliant.
The paramedic looked too harried to be impressed. "Can you follow me, please?"
Holly got up slowly, her legs stiff. The temperature was dropping, an icy, damp wind picking up. There would be rain before morning.
The man turned. "Mr.—Dr.—Elliot is refusing to go to the hospital. We were hoping you could talk him into complying with medical protocol. We'd really like to keep him overnight for observation."
"I'll try. He's kind of stubborn."
Ben was sitting on a gurney, his feet dangling over the side. It was pulled onto the sidewalk beside the ambulance, out of the way of the other attendants, who were still hurrying back and forth. He had one of the thin, gray first-aid blankets over his shoulders and a water bottle clutched in one hand. A tube ran from his arm to an IV bag on a stand. His long face was pale, but his expression was his own. The deer-in-the-slime-monster-headlights look was fading.
Holly stopped in front of him, projecting a hearty energy she didn't feel. "Are you giving the nice ambulance boys a hard time?"
Ben looked up at her, his eyes crinkling with a feeble shadow of a smile. "You look like crap. And you smell." He sniffed his sleeve. "So do I."
A flicker of annoyance let Holly know she was alive after all. "Save a guy from a sticky death, and still he criticizes. What happened to the sensitive New Age Ben? His DVD collection sucked, but he had manners."
"Sorry. The blob monster ate him." Ben passed a hand over his face. "Really. Sorry. That was a bad thing to say."
Holly put her hands on her hips. "Yeah, well, maybe I'l
l cut you some slack, given the near-death and all. Shouldn't you be going to the hospital?"
"I'm not hurt. Just dehydrated. I don't think the whatever-it-was quite got around to dining on me, thank God." He took her hand. "It sounds woefully inadequate to just say thank-you for saving my life—but… thank you, Holly. You saved my life tonight. Another hour and the ending might have been different."
Then he shuddered, sinking into the folds of his blanket. The gesture reminded Holly of a turtle. "I just want to go home, turn on loud music, and sleep with the lights on."
Her legs starting to tremble with fatigue, Holly sat down next to Ben. The thin padding on the gurney was barely enough to conceal the hard metal frame. She clutched Ben's hand. It was cold, the skin paper-dry.
"Wouldn't you feel better someplace where there are other people?" she asked.
His fingers spasmed, clutching hers painfully hard. "No. On the surface, y'know, everything seems okay. But underneath… it doesn't help me to have to be reasonable. I'm just treading water. I need privacy."
"Treading water has its function. It keeps us afloat until we're ready to swim again. You could compromise. Come home with me, where I can keep an eye on you."
Eyes growing round, he pulled his hand away with a jerk. "Are you kidding? Your house… your house is like that one!"
"It is not!" Holly rounded on him, then caught herself, remembering what Ben had just been through. "My house is nice. Friendly. It doesn't talk, either."
He buried his face in his hands. "It's creepy."
"It's my family's." She softened her voice still further. "Nothing like the Flanders place."
He looked up, his expression shuttered. "My condo is mine, and it's normal, plain old drywall and concrete. I'm really into normal, nonmagical stuff right now, Holly. If it isn't human or human-made, I don't want it near me."
Even without the words, his tone was like a blow against her breastbone. She flinched.
"I'm sorry," he said. "That was harsh."
"It was honest." She managed a smile, a touch to his shoulder. "You've had enough of the wild side for one night."
"You could say that."
She closed her eyes a moment, but the drug-blurred world shifted sideways. "I wish you would go to the hospital. Just for tonight, to make sure everything's okay."
"What's the big deal? Without medical observation, I'll turn into a slime monster?"
"Don't worry; it doesn't work that way," Holly said quickly, trying to reassure him.
"Oh, God!" Ben raised his hands, shaking his head. "You would know that, wouldn't you?"
Yeah, because I'm one of the spooky people. All through their relationship, her magic had been a delicate subject—sensitive enough that she'd kept most of her witch's tools out of sight. She'd meant to put them out again one by one, to introduce him to them gradually. She wanted Ben to accept that part of her, but somehow she'd never brought out that first goddess figurine.
I'm being a coward. They'd have to confront the whole witch issue soon, but this wasn't the time. Not tonight, anyway.
"Do you want me to stay with you at your place?" she offered, officially giving up on the hospital plan.
"No." He huddled yet further into his blanket. "Like I said, I need to be by myself."
On some secret, selfish level, Holly was relieved to be spared his mood. "Then take care." She kissed his cheek, a quick peck of retreat. "Call me when you get home. Only if you want to. I'll check up on you later."
"Thanks," he muttered, but didn't look up.
Holly slid off the gurney, pausing a moment to find her fatigue-impaired balance, and walked away.
Ben wanted solitude. The only thing she could do was give it to him, but leaving him felt wrong. Everything was off-kilter. Their moment of reunion had gone flat, like biting into a sweet roll to find raw dough in the middle. Crap.
The analogy reminded her that dinner had been a long time ago. She drifted down the sidewalk, feeling hungry and emotionally hollow. The crowd around the house seemed to have taken on a new energy, but she was beyond caring what that was all about.
She noticed that Alessandro's car was gone. It had been there before she went to see Ben, so Alessandro must have left some time since. He could have touched base. His omission made her grumpy. After all, checking up on Ben and Alessandro were two of the reasons she was still there. She might as well not have bothered sticking around.
It was time to finish up and go home. She found Raglan and got the rest of her money. Part of her felt bad taking it. Logic said she'd earned her fee twice over, but her guilt-o-meter shrieked that she hadn't been able to save half the victims or Raglan's investment in the house.
As she left Raglan he was on his cell, carrying on a vitriolic argument with his insurance agent. From the sound of things, they'd be at it until his battery went dead. She hurried away, his angry, panic-ridden invective clawing at her nerves. The words weren't aimed at Holly, but her sense of failure grabbed them and stabbed at her heart nonetheless. Gulping the cold, damp air, Holly walked a little way to clear her brittle mood.
Then she saw Alessandro leaning against the side of the neighboring house, all but invisible in the shadows. He lifted a hand in silent greeting, the faint haze of the streetlights catching the pale fall of his long, curling hair and giving him an improbable halo.
The sight of him turned the tide on her ebbing energy. As she joined him, he straightened from his slouch against the stucco.
"What are you doing over here?" Holly asked. "I thought you'd left. Where's your car?"
"I moved it," he said. "I'm parked around the corner. I really need to go, but I wanted to make sure you were all right." He stepped toward her, his face intent.
It was the first kind thing anyone had said to her through the whole horrible aftermath of the house. Perversely, it made her want to cry.
"You scared me," he said. Alessandro took her face in his hands.
There was something old-fashioned in the gesture, familiar and courtly at the same time. Her stomach squeezed, warm with a fleeting, half-conscious memory of him picking her up and cradling her body against his chest. Taking her to the ambulance himself.
The feel of his hands on her face was comforting. Vampire skin was soft as silk, cool as satin, and Alessandro had a sensitive, skilled touch. She wanted his hands all over her, wherever there was skin to be caressed, because a little contact wasn't enough. That was the delight and the danger of his species. They always left their victims wanting that tiny bit more.
Holly drew a long breath. "I'm okay." At the moment I feel more than okay.
"Good."
"Thank you for getting me out of there."
"Anytime." Unexpectedly he bent, kissing her forehead, his lips cool and smooth. It was chaste. Brotherly. She pulled back, the innocent brush of lips burning her as surely as smoldering desire.
Feeling her start, Alessandro released her, eyes lowered. He recovered, giving her a bland smile. "Blessings on you, Holly. You should go, too. Go home and get some rest. Is there anyone staying with you tonight? Ben, maybe?"
Holly squeezed her eyes shut a moment, really not wanting to think about Ben. "No. I'm alone tonight. I'll be all right," she replied, doing her best to sound casual.
"Then go straight home. Be careful. Don't let anyone in. You've heard about the campus murders?"
"What are you talking about? Oh, never mind. I'm too tired."
"Holly, I need you to listen—"
This was all wrong. Ben had pushed her away, and now Alessandro was telling her to go, and she was cold and exhausted and she didn't want to dwell on death. On top of that, going home sounded incredibly lonely.
At least Alessandro recognized her need for comfort, and that was the best she was getting from anyone tonight. She stepped into his arms again, pressing against the strong wall of his chest. She meant the hug to be sisterly, as he had been brotherly, but heard the soft, surprised intake of his breath.
"
Just hold me a moment," she said plaintively. "Just a moment, and then I'll go home."
His fingers curled into her hair, cupping her head as if he held something fragile and rare. "Holly, are you sure you're all right? Can I take you home?"
She didn't answer. The night had left her a raw wound. It was only now, when someone offered sympathy, that she fully allowed the pain.
His hand stroked down the back of her head and neck, traveling strong and gentle over her shoulders. Her clenched muscles trembled, reluctant to release. She'd thought comfort was what she wanted, but now Holly wanted to weep. His kindness was making her hurt worse.
He kissed the top of her head.
At that moment, reaching for warmth was the only balm for her misery. She tilted her face up and took his hard, full mouth with hers. A quick, tentative pressure. She felt his shiver, the sudden erratic beating of his heart. The vibration resonated through her flesh, heating things deep inside her body. His mouth was surprisingly warm, almost human-hot. They paused for a moment, their faces close together.
Holly's blood raced to the pull of his maleness. It drew her like a physical force, as if she could crawl inside his lethal strength and wrap it around her for comfort. A sweet tension began to push against her fatigue, a warm, new curiosity.
She leaned in a little farther, taking his lips again. He pulled back, hesitating, but then returned the soft, subtle kiss with something far more demanding—and delicious.
He tasted of licorice—no, it was fennel seed. Vampires sometimes chewed it as an old-fashioned breath freshener. The cool, sharp flavor made her tongue tingle, and she licked her own lips to get more of the sweetness. She slipped her arms around Alessandro's neck, her hands tangling in the wealth of his hair. He smelled of leather and tobacco and some other unique scent she could not place—the smell of him, of what he was. Holly drowned in it.
His hands held her, strong and steady. She kissed him more deeply, tongue glancing off the long, sharp edges of his corner teeth. Her lips quivered at the sensation, and she explored with the fascination of a primitive first seeing fire.
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